Black and White
by Rapscalibur
Summary: A necromancer and paladin band together to save Sanctuary from the Lord of Terror, but what stands in their way has the potential to make Diablo unstoppable and forever plunge Sanctuary into darkness. Rated M for Violence, Sexual content and Strong language
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**I don't own Diablo... I don't even own shoes. This is a story starting in act II of Diablo 2, and depending on reception I hope to finish it soon...ish? Please rate, review and enjoy**

**Prologue**

The brew was far too strong. Rhet wrinkled his nose as he raised the steaming mug to his lips a second time, hoping it would become easier to swallow if he kept drinking – it didn't.

"Where did you say you were from, stranger?" the tavern-owner hazarded. Rhet looked up from the odd concoction he'd been served and replied coolly; "I didn't".

The bartender shifted uneasily, causing his ample belly to wobble. Obviously Rhet's presence was disturbing to his rustic sensibilities. Rhet didn't blame him for feeling uncomfortable; discomfort was a feeling that seemed to follow him like a particularly curious storm-cloud. He mused for a moment, before placing one of his black gauntleted hands on the bar counter and sighing audibly. "I apologise," he started. "I don't usually interact with lively people. You could call it an occupational hazard."

The bartender seemed to relax a little and, leaning forward against the bar counter, he seemed to find his voice again. "I'm guessin' you don't do much work with people then?" his voice wavered, causing Rhet to chuckle quietly. "No." His voice took on an ominous tone. "People in my line of work have a tendency to avoid things with a heartbeat." He paused for effect.

The bartender's bottom lip trembled, which made a few of his chins bob in apparent agreement. "You a mortician then?" his voice cracked just enough to make Rhet feel validated in his performance; he carded his bone-white hair, flashed a set of impossibly perfect teeth and fixed the bartender with an emerald gaze. "More like a priest"

The bartender jerked slightly with surprise. Rhet couldn't take credit for it though, because the tavern door had been flung open causing a loud slam; Zakurah had a habit of making dramatic entrances.

Her whitesteel greaves echoed as she strode in, armour glinting, her brown hair behaving – as always – as if it was dying for attention. Her eyes met Rhet's, and he sighed again; her expression was always so imperious. "Rhet, why am I not surprised to find you here?" it wasn't a question, "You always find the darkest corner to hide in." Rhet cocked an ivory brow, "The glare from your ostentatious armour hurts my eyes, Zakurah." She glared at him; "At least I don't make villagers feel like they're talking to hell-spawn."

"And _I_ don't make villagers feel like their souls are damned for eating meat on a Sunday," Rhet shot back; the corner of his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin, a rare sight for Zakurah, who huffed in mock desperation and dropped the issue. Obviously the exchange boosted the tavern-owner's confidence, because he seemed to find his voice as Zakurah sat down on the stool beside Rhet. "You two are an interesting couple."

The silence that filled the room was deafening. The air had suddenly grown thick, and before the bartender could be made aware of his mistake, Rhet had risen, and in one swift motion, swept out of the tavern. His long black cloak trailed him out of the door, which closed noiselessly behind him.

"Did I miss something?" the bartender asked thickly, Zakurah sighed and slumped forward as much as her shining breast-plate would allow. "I don't think you should pry here ser," she looked over to Rhet's mug, and something indecipherable flitted across her features. "It may get you killed ..."

That was enough to shut the tavern-owner up.

**-oo00oo-**

Akrimox was frustrated; he disembowelled a passing demon with one claw to illustrate his point. The little creature's entrails hit the brimstone floor with a wet, splattering sound. Akrimox's minions chattered and thronged, climbing over each other to escape their master's grasp. He did so enjoy when they scurried like that; it gave him a helpful distraction from the sordid state of things as they stood. Slumping down in his throne he raised a hand and made a cupping motion; instantly, a harpy was at his side, offering him a skull filled with human blood. "Disappear whore," he snarled, "before I violate your insides as well." The harpy did not need to be told twice, half-woman and half-bird she made her escape as swiftly as her bony, feathered wings would allow. Akrimox drained the skull and crushed it, hoping that he might relieve some of his frustration through violence – no such luck. His thoughts turned to the promise he'd made to his master and his clawed fingers sank into the stone throne like a knife into butter. He found himself to be in a very difficult situation but there was nothing for it as of yet. Enormous muscles rippled and the monstrous form lifted itself from its throne, the demon lord descended skeletal stairs and sauntered off in search of something he could fuck, kill or eat; and there was no rule that stated one unlucky stygian whore couldn't fill all three of those roles.

—**oo00oo—**

"Must you keep following me?" Rhet groused as Zakurah once again strode up behind him. She puffed up her chest and glared at him; she hated when he noticed her without even turning around. "Stop trying to be ominous would you?" she half-commanded half-pleaded. "Stop being so easy so to detect." He shot back without hesitation. Zakurah always had a feeling that Rhet's sharp tongue would get him killed, although killing him would be an almost impossible feat for anyone short of Diablo himself, she still didn't enjoy having to worry about him being incinerated by some sorcerer he had undoubtedly succeeded in pissing off.

Shaking off her defensive reactions, Zakurah softened her voice. "Please, Rhet," she started, "constantly bickering achieves nothing and we only wear ourselves down." He seemed to shift his feet as if he felt uncomfortable, then as soon as the emotion had shown it was gone again. "Fine," he said, "but no more of that awful brew;" he faked a gag, "it tastes like Devilkin blood." Zakurah sighed. "Fine," she said, "I'll buy you something imported from Kurast, just stop whinging." She turned on her heel and motioned for Rhet to follow; he hesitated for a moment, clicked his tongue, and followed suit.

The hangover Rhet experienced the next morning seemed the work of a particularly sadistic demon. He sat up in bed clutching his head and brushing white strands out of his reddened eyes. "I warned you," Zakurah's voice said from somewhere to his left. He replied with a grunt and an attempt to vault himself out of the bed, which failed.

"You really can't stop yourself when it comes to Kurast-brewed mead can you?" Zakurah queried jokingly. Rhet rubbed his eyes and looked up at her, as usual she was wearing her hair down and her armour reflected light that wasn't even there. Rhet looked down at himself, he noticed that he was naked and started searching for his robes and armour; both were haphazardly scattered around a wooden chair. Obviously in his drunkenness he had succeeded in falling out of his clothing, but not in packing or respecting his precious garb. He rose from the bed and mentally dispelled his hangover with a briefly uttered syllable. The magic swirled invisibly around him and cleansed his pain, instantly restoring the priest's sense of living balance. At the same time Zakurah blushed vermillion and spun around so fast that her hair could barely keep up. "Are you totally shameless!" she cried. Rhet blinked and looked down at his naked body, then back up, cocking an eyebrow "It's not my fault you attach perverted connotations to something natural." With that he sauntered across the room and set about pulling his clothes on. Zakurah winced as she heard the clinking of his bonemail vest. "It really is disgusting that you insist on wearing bones." She said without turning to face him. Rhet bristled, this topic had been a plague on him since the first time she had enquired as to 'what type of metal' his vest was made from. "Dread lord bones," he began, "are just as hard as your sanctified whitesteel _paladin._" He almost spat the last word. It was Zakurah's turn to tense up, "Rhet, I..." her voice trailed off as a distant sound rolled into the bedroom. Someone was screaming.

"EVELYN, NO. PLEASE GOD NO." A villager was on her knees, shrieking, in front of a gory mess that had obviously once been the girl named Evelyn. Rhet arrived first and stared at the desecrated body. Evelyn couldn't have been older than ten or eleven, her little body now smeared with blood and entrails pouring from where her belly should have been. Rhet regarded the corpse with a sombre expression as Zakurah jogged up behind him. Though she was a hardened warrior, Zakurah could not stifle her gasp at the sight. Evelyn had clearly been raped, her small frame was completely naked and there was a large gash between her legs that looked more like a rip than a cut. Worse though was her face. Her eyelids had been sliced off and her limbs had been tied at odd angles. She had either bled to death or died from the shock and pain; her limbs were still bound as if it didn't matter anymore. Zakurah – compelled by years of training and her holy charge – knelt next to the crying villager and laid a hand on the woman's shoulder. She seemed to struggle to find her words for a moment, but she felt she had to offer some comfort. "If you allow me ma'am, I will perform the rites to send her soul safely to the High Heavens." The woman sniffed and trembled in her yellow dress and apron, but managed a short nod. As Zakurah focussed on the corpse and began to chant with her palms together against her forehead, Rhet turned to the captain of the guard. " Ser Greiz," he began as the older man tore his eyes from little Evelyn, "I don't think that this was the work of a human." The greying captain stroked his goatee and met the taller man's eyes. "I agree. This looks like Radament's work." Rhet frowned, "Radament?" The name felt strangely familiar in his mouth although he did not know why. Greiz nodded, "He was once a Horadric mage of great skill. He was buried beneath Lut Gholein to safeguard the people of the desert, but when that wanderer came through the city, he..." Greiz trailed off and looked at the floor. "Rose from his grave." Rhet finished. Greiz nodded again and Rhet cursed "Trag'Oul damn it." Zakurah joined them having finished her prayer and consoled Evelyn's mother to the best of her ability. Greiz looked back up at Rhet, "We barricaded the sewers to keep him out of the city but," he motioned wordlessly to Evelyn's body, "obviously it didn't work." Rhet ran his fingers through his hair and Zakurah placed a comforting hand on Greiz's shoulder, telling him that he was not at fault. She turned to look at Rhet who met her gaze steadily, "We'll deal with this." He said as he nodded to her.

Half an hour later, Rhet sighed as he adjusted his gauntlets and greaves. The black metal glinted as if in anticipation of bloodshed. Zakurah stood beside him, expression stoic, armour shining as always. With sword and shield at the ready, she turned to look at Rhet, her face becoming questioning. A gust kicked up as Greiz undid the multiple wards and locks on the trapdoor to the sewers and levered it open, swirling Rhet's cloak around like a black shroud. He nodded to Zakurah, crossed his arms over his chest and dropped into the black sewers of Lut Gholein.


	2. Chapter 2: The Ancient's Tomb

**Hi again. This chapter is long overdue. Feel free to sue me, but I imagine you'll be disappointed with the haul. Anyway, here's what can effectively be considered Chapter 2. Once again, I own nothing except this burger, and even that I'm only renting.**

Chapter 2 - The Ancient's Tomb

Zakurah could see nothing. Blackness stretched eternally ahead of her, and she found herself frightened in a way she rarely was. Her sword was clutched so firmly in her hand that her knuckles were probably as white as her armour.

"Calm down," Rhet's voice came from a few paces to her left, "they're drawn to that kind of fear." She tried to relax her grip slightly, hoping she wouldn't lose her composure in this black pit. "Can you see?" she asked. A moment of what felt like contemplative silence, a slight clinking, and then the hair that had fallen so wildly across her face was gently swept back. "I can see perfectly." Rhet replied, somewhere between cold and reassuring, but not quite either.

A torch in such gloom would have been blinding, but Rhet had clearly considered that as he encircled himself with a mild green glow. Zakurah could see him now. His gauntlets pulsed with the green hue of necromantic energy; his long sleek hair staying obediently brushed back, and that devilish grin he only displayed when no one could see or he was about to slaughter. It invoked a strange sensation for Zakurah. She felt partially safer to have him there and simultaneously terrified of the dark duality in his character.

"They're coming," he said, "if you want to brighten the place up, do it now." Zakurah nodded – knowing the familiar battle routine – and knelt on the spot while Rhet stood in front of her, arms spread, both protective and welcoming. That was when the screeching began.

The Burning Dead were a particular type of skeletal summon favoured by Horadric ancients for the ease with which their bones could be enchanted with strengthening magic. This made them stronger and more reliable minions. Of course any necromancer worth his salt knew this, and Rhet could see the undead advancing like soldiers. Their bones clunked noisily as the skeletons in front dragged their swords and maces; behind them, the archers knocked decaying arrows into rotten bows and stood to take aim. Rhet surveyed the small army and the laughter began to bubble in his stomach. His slight grin spread into a maniacal smirk. He spread the fingers on his outstretched hands and screamed "I RETURN YOUR SOULS TO THE VOID"

The cavern filled with a blinding light. Zakurah had illuminated a circle of white-hot magic from behind Rhet as he had begun to scream. She was shocked at the joy in his war-cry, but even more so – as she always was – when he darted forward into the mass of skeletons completely unarmed. Swords blurred and the Burning Dead were moving with feverish speed; striking at the whirling necromancer. Rhet danced and dashed away, dodging blades and spikes with practiced ease; all the while the green glow around him grew stronger. One skeleton lunged forward, sword first, aiming for his head; Rhet spun and his cloak created an arc of black as he drew the skeleton off balance by the charging wrist with one hand, and gripped it's skull with the other.

The creature would have fallen if not for the vice-grip of Rhet's gauntlet. There was the slightest crackle of electric energy and green light playing across his hand. Then the skeleton's skull exploded sending bony shards ricocheting around the room. The other minions paused in their attack as their comrade fell back into a pile of disconnected bones. With no soul to hold the enchanted bones together, the skeleton was nothing more than a dead pile again.

One skeleton seemed to remember its purpose and charged Rhet with what looked like a falchion. His insane grin had not faded since the fight had begun, and now his eyes had widened to the point where his entire emerald iris was clearly visible. He looked like a wild beast. The skeleton's sword came in low, swiping for his leg, Rhet's hand raised slightly and he snapped his fingers with a bizarrely contrasted calmness. The bones of the fallen skeleton shot up from the stone floor, their forms almost liquid as layers of bone shifted over themselves leaving them sharp as pikes. One caught the skeleton in the wrist – severing its entire right arm – and the other shot straight through its skull before impaling a second minion standing poised with an arrow. Both fell backward and crumpled, dusty and lifeless again.

The tide of the battle was clear. But the skeletons did not have the ability to reason. All they knew was their instruction, and again they charged. Rhet casually snapped his fingers again and pierced the skulls and bodies of the archers attempting to draw their arrows with a fearlessness that only the undead can possess. As the others neared the necromancer, he raised his hand above his head and for the first time, his expression calmed as he spoke. "Rest now, and know your master." With that, he clenched his fist and shouted a syllable that echoed with incredible power. For the second time a brilliant light filled the room, this time menacing and emerald. When the light faded enough for Zakurah to un-shield her eyes she stared, transfixed by the scene before her. Rhet stood in a burnt circle; around him was nothing but dust. He turned to face her with what appeared to be a satisfied smile. "Shall we?"

"I've never seen you fight like that," her voice cracked slightly as she stood up, and she felt a fearful pride for the strength of her companion. He merely shrugged and pointed into the murk ahead of him. "Radament is that way." Zakurah raised a quizzical brow. "How do you know he isn't that way?" she motioned to the tunnel on their left. "I know because I can feel his magic," came the reply. "It's similar to mine after all." He started walking in the direction he had pointed and she felt an anguished pang at the memory of how very different the two of them were. "High Heavens give me strength." She murmured to herself, knowing she was out of earshot.

They met no resistance as they ventured deeper into the sewers, the darkness was silently dancing at the edge of the glow from Rhet's frame. Zakurah added her own radius of warm light to which he cocked an eyebrow. "They already know we're here," she said, "this way they're less likely to ambush us." He only nodded and quickened his pace. She found herself wondering about the bizarreness in him, and his obvious edge over the undead. A shiver went down her spine, unrelated to the dripping cold of Lut Gholein's sewers.

They rounded a corner and Rhet froze, eyes wide, and stared into the blackness ahead of him. "What is it?" she asked, but the answer came from the shadows instead of her companion; a low, rasping voice that sounded like wind through reeds or scraping metal against stone. "Welcome heroes." Zakurah tensed and the grip on her sword tightened again. "Show yourself, demon, and be cleansed!" she yelled. Radament's laughter vibrated through the cavern like a snake's hiss as the room was illuminated by several ghostly lights protruding from the blackened stone walls. Rhet's mouth hardened into a thin line; his contempt for the fallen ancient apparent even in the poorly lit room. "Zakurah," he whispered, "we're heavily outnumbered, I need you to handle Radament and let me deal with his minions." She looked at him, perplexed, before casting a searching look around the room. The walls were black with charring and shadow, and Radament stood at the far end of the room, alone. The ancient towered, at least eight feet tall, and his head was that of a jackal. His skin was dark like dirty brass and he wore only a ceremonial skirt; though his muscles rippled, he didn't look particularly strong, his strength was his magic. Only then did she notice the movement in the walls. They were not black. Skeletons with bones as black as night stood en masse against every wall, jaws gaping, swords and maces clenched or bows drawn, and palms sparking with imbued magic. She would later discover that these creatures were called Horrors.

"You walk into your death mortals," came Radament's rusted voice again. He pulled a sickle the length of a human body from somewhere behind him. "Make peace with your _gods._" He spat the last word from his animal's mouth, and the Horrors jumped forward as if that was their cue.

Rhet reacted immediately, drawing his arms around him in a practised fashion as the light from his gauntlets began to pulsate. The Horrors charged, jaws hanging in soundless war-cries while the archers raised their bows and took aim for the glowing necromancer.

Zakurah squared her stance and focused on Radament. The Ancient was waiting half crouched, with his jackal's mouth hanging slightly open, revealing teeth like a hundred tiny spears. He sprang forward with incredible speed, sickle bearing down on her neck. Zakurah did not move to evade. Unlike Rhet, she was trained to withstand attack rather than avoid it. The sickle met her shield with an impact that would have shattered bone like kindling, but Zakurah held fast; her magically imbued strength allowing her to stop the attack dead without so much as flinching. Her whitesteel armour shone brilliantly as she spun on one foot, in a small circle, bringing her sword around with lightning speed, and cleaving Radament's right leg clean off the bone.

Rhet heard the Ancient's frenzied cry as he withdrew his hand from one Horror's crumbling chest cavity. The black bones didn't have the opportunity to hit the floor before Rhet was moulding them into a hundred tiny projectiles. The Horrors fell in quick succession, each one with number of bony darts littering their now twice-dead bodies. Eventually, only the five Horror-magi remained, their magical shields had saved them from Rhet's onslaught for the time being; he turned his attention to them just as they each hurled all manner of elemental attacks in his direction.

Zakurah parried one after another of Radament's wild swings. The sickle whistled past her as she deflected a lunge at her face. She stepped in close brought her shield up with tremendous force, Radament recoiled as the metal struck his face with a brutal crunching thud. He staggered back and stuck his sickle in the ground to keep from falling; his breathing was laboured as he brought himself up to his full height again. Zakurah stared as the once-great Horadrim mage seemed to square his stance, his severed leg lay a few paces away, but Radament stood as if on two complete legs. It was then that she noticed a faint shimmering outline where his leg used to be. Radament grinned, "You cannot defeat me with your pathetic attacks mortal." His sickle was drawn and arcing up towards her face in less than a second; his ethereal leg carrying him swiftly towards his prey.

Rhet moved with a fluid intricacy, his fingers danced as he wordlessly conjured a wall made from the bones of fallen Horrors; the elemental attacks met the barrier and exploded into flames, shards and sparks. A smirk spread across his face and Rhet opened his palms, ready to retaliate with something they could not block regardless of the strength of their shields. One mage was charging a second glacial spike, hoping to pierce his wall; Rhet chuckled softly and turned both hands to face the attacking mage. The light from his gauntlets flared briefly and from his hands exploded two green bolts. The shots hurtled towards the mage faster than the skeleton could possibly react, and struck with fatal impact. The mage was thrown back so hard that it shattered upon striking a wall several paces behind it. Rhet did not hesitate and pointed the index and middle fingers of his right hand up while aiming at the fallen mage. The corpse exploded with such force that the other magi were knocked to the ground, their charged attacks fizzling in their bony palms. Immediately he laced his fingers together and pushed his outward facing palms toward the group of skeletons. The stoic wall of black bones twisted and writhed until each pointed bone was facing the magi. The wall dove forward like a wave of death impaling and crushing the magi against the same wall that shattered their companion. Radament's minions were finished. Rhet turned his attention to Zakurah and the Ancient.

Her sword was ablaze with holy fire and she was matching Radament blow for blow. Zakurah had dropped her shield and was now grasping her sword with both hands. It seemed as if it had grown to match the monstrous sickle the Ancient used with crushing power and otherworldly speed. A small smile played across Rhet's face as he stood there, dusting off his gauntlets. "Finally you show your true strength." He said softly, making no move to intervene.

Radament bore down on Zakurah, opening his jackal's jaws, aiming to slice and bite her simultaneously. She drew back her sword, the tip pointed at the charging Horadrim from a point parallel to her shoulder. The flames on the blade now glowed white-hot, and with a dazzling flourish, she drove the burning sword into Radament's open mouth. His eyes widened and the sickle struck the stone floor with a reverberating clang; the flames of the imbued sword seemed to dance behind his eyes for a moment. He gave a shriek of unfathomable agony as the jackal's head started to melt and the demon's soul was driven from the Ancient's body. Zakurah flexed and pulled the blade out sideways, slicing the jackal's face from cheek to neck, spraying black blood and bile across the room. Rhet didn't so much as twitch as his companion stood over the dying Horadrim and drove her flaming sword through the creature's skull with shuddering finality. Radament gave one final jerk, and as Zakurah removed her blade and the flames began to die, he whispered from a place that was not his mouth; "Thank you."

"That was a bit flashy don't you think?" Rhet chided as she turned to face him. She didn't reply, instead beginning to pray silently. The burnt blood on her sword seemed to fade and dissipate until it looked as though the sword had never seen battle. Rhet was already casting a glance around the room in search of something of value or interest. His eye fell on a chest a few paces away from where Radament had first appeared. He crossed the room quickly and kicked the lock viciously; it fell, broken, off the latch and he knelt to loot the chest. Inside, he found an assortment of gems; a pile of gold coins; what appeared to be embalming fluid, and a bizarre engraved cube. "Well," he said, lifting the cube, "this warrants some investigation."

**Okay so everybody already knows about the cube, but I'm planning on branching off in the next chapter. Again, sorry this took so long; been busy with Girlfriend and our new apartment etc... Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading**


	3. Chapter 3: Order and Chaos

**I have no good reason why you shouldn't hate me for taking so long with my chapters. Lets pretend I've been fervently plotting a course other than the preset game quests because, lets face it, everyone does that. Once again, no shoes, no copyright infringement, I own nothing to do with Diablo, except my characters, and even they won't do what I ask.**

Chapter 3: Order and Chaos

"You're alive." Greiz's voice carried an incredulous tone as he extended a hand to both Rhet and Zakurah as they climbed up into the blinding midday sun. Zakurah, instead of replying, threw a bundle wrapped in a loincloth at Greiz's feet. The mercenary captain looked at the bloody heap and poked it with the toe of his boot, clearly bewildered. The loincloth fell off, revealing the sliced face and sharp, bloodied teeth of Radament's jackal head. The mercenary's eyes seemed to stretch in their sockets. He looked up at Zakurah wordlessly, but she was already turning on her heel toward the nearby tavern. Rhet gave him a wry smile. "Give that to Evelyn's mother."

Two flagons of wine down and three hours later, Zakurah was beginning to feel faintly heady. She sat alone at a table in the far corner of the tavern, one usually reserved for undesirables. Rhet strode in and spotted her instantly, sauntering over with an air of nonchalance, grabbing a chair and seating himself just opposite her. She didn't look up at him.

"You are a remarkable warrior." Rhet stated simply, his eyes searching hers for a reaction. "Thank you." She replied curtly. He quirked a brow. "You seem awfully sombre for someone who just vanquished a tainted Horadric Ancient." Her eyes snapped to his.

"Why didn't you help me?"

"You didn't need my help."

"You gamble with your companions' lives just to see their skills?" Her voice was a malignant hiss.

"I prefer to think I allowed you to honour your religion without the help of what you have always called a _death mage_." Zakurah tensed at his words and her gauntleted hand twitched slightly, causing her wine to slosh. Rhet seemed completely relaxed, simply waiting for her reply.

"Zakarum does not agree with your..." she hesitated for a moment, "methods, Rhet." At this the necromancer seemed genuinely surprised. He had not been expecting the use of his name, knowing she preferred not to humanise him, though he regained his composure almost immediately. Smiling, he thought about how they had met. She seemed to notice the glint in his eye and looked down uncomfortably.

"Would you have preferred if you hadn't intervened in my trial, Zakurah?" he spoke in even tones; a genuine question.

"No, I acted against the teachings of the church, but I feel I did the right thing." She hated to admit that the necromancer had defied her every expectation regarding his character. "I'm going to bed," she said promptly, and got up to leave before Rhet could argue. He simply watched as she ascended the staircase, his gaze calculating. When she had disappeared from sight he reached for her unfinished flagon and took a sip, instantly regretting it.

"_You are hereby charged with practicing necromancy and befouling Sanctuary with black magic, the sentence for which is swift and immediate death by beheading. How do you plead?" The paladin's voice echoed around the stone hall and was met with a hundred murmurs of assent._

"_Not guilty"_

_Ripples of disgusted whispers bounced off the walls._

_The paladin reading the charge seemed to swallow his own breath for a moment before turning to the elder councillor seated on the pedestal to his right. The councillor, Wyand Voidbringer, stood to look down at the accused. "Speak your name, Necromancer," he began, "so that this Council may address you properly."_

"_My name is Rhet," he started, "and I am indeed a priest of Rathma, ser Voidbringer," He was on his knees in the middle of the room. Two swords held by burly paladins were crossed over his neck, and his arms were shackled and pulled uncomfortably to either side by two more guards holding him. His stark white hair fell over his face as he was forced to address the floor by the swords holding him there. "...but I am not guilty of any crime other than defending myself." He finished with a taunting smile, but Wyand could not see it._

"_You slaughtered five of my loyal paladins," Wyand almost spat the words, "how do you justify calling that self-defence?" Rhet chuckled softly and replied, "I killed only the men who attacked me without any provocation. When one of them chose to speak I stopped. It is hardly my fault if your fanatics choose to attack an innocent civilian." Before Wyand could retort, Rhet received a steel boot in the side from one of the guards; he groaned and spat blood onto the stone floor. Wyand's mouth gave a slight upward curve as Rhet winced again. His robes were tattered and the beatings his captors had subjected him to were clearly visible beneath his torn attire._

"_My paladins are trained to kill necromancers on sight. You were witnessed practicing dark magic; you deserve to be put to death."_

"_I thought I was on trial. I didn't realise this was simply your vain attempt at justifying an execution. If it would be easier to convict me that way, I'll allow you your deluded charging and be done with you."_

"_You have the right, like any citizen of Sanctuary, to defend your case and be judged fairly, mage." Wyand struggled to keep the contempt and bloodlust out of his voice._

"_Then I demand I be judged fairly and not simply have the accusations levelled against me be reiterated by bigots." Rhet shot back earning himself another kick in the side. He grunted angrily this time and pushed his neck into the swords to meet Wyand's eyes. "IS THIS WHAT THE ZAKARUM COUNCIL CALLS A FAIR TRIAL?"_

_Wyand merely shrugged. "You cannot be trusted necromancer; if we allowed you to stand, you would just as likely try to escape or fight as you would defend your case."_

_Rhet merely glared at the councillor, who stared back with fanatical determination. He was on the verge of ordering the beheading when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and met a pair of dark brown eyes, staring at him in what appeared to be astonished chastisement. "Zakurah," he stammered, "what are you doing here?"_

"_I came to see the necromancer that had been captured for trial." She looked down at Rhet and his bruises, turning back to Wyand with a glare, "How can we protect the people if we treat prisoners like this?"_

_Rhet was breathing heavily and heard only snippets of the exchange. "A paladin with some sense." He muttered to himself._

"_Zakurah, he is a necromancer, there are certain precautions one must take."_

"_I don't care if he's Mephisto himself," she shot back, "the Church is not an entity of cruelty."_

"_My child, you are still young..."_

"_Do not use my youth to lessen the value of my words," she interrupted, "I am a paladin of Zakarum and I will not see anyone treated with the brutality we strive to fight." Voidbringer was all too aware of the eyes on him from all around the room. A member of the High Council being chastised by a paladin was completely unheard of, and he knew that she could not escape punishment for such behaviour._

"_Zakurah," he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "I may be your uncle but you will be charged with obstructing justice if this continues." She glared at him, then turned to face Rhet. Without looking back at Wyand she hopped off the high seat of the councillor and marched toward the necromancer. The guards did not move but became noticeably tense as she approached._

"_Unhand him."_

_The guard on her right shifted uncomfortably and cast a glance to Wyand, who stared at his niece in utter disbelief. Zakurah drew her sword and pointed it at Wyand. "Release this man and brand him with the symbol of Zakarum," she said, "He will travel with me to Lut Gholein and help me vanquish Diablo and his brother Baal. If he proves himself, the seal will be removed and he will be released for good." She lowered her sword and knelt with the tip against the ground and her fingers laced across the pommel. "Does my suggestion please the Council?" Her words were laced with venom, eyes locked on her uncle's as she waited for a response._

_Wyand shifted his eyes impercebtibly to the Zakarumites gathered in the hall and found that his niece had handed him the opportunity to save face. He straightened up and regarded Zakurah. "The Council will agree to your terms on one condition."_

"_Name it."_

_Wyand smiled mirthlessly, "If you die during this quest, the seal of Zakarum will burn the necromancer alive."_

_Zakurah scowled behind her pommel for a moment. She stood and regarded her uncle with open contempt. He met her eyes with seeming nonchalance; waiting for her response. She cast a glance at the battered necromancer behind her. Their eyes met and she thought she saw a slightly reassuring smile play across his lips. Seeing no alternative, Zakurah turned back to her uncle._

"_Agreed."_

_The guards removed their swords from Rhet's neck and he looked up at his rescuer. "Well met, noble paladin." He said with a touch of irony. She turned to face him again. "Don't thank me yet, Necromancer."_

_He smiled faintly through his hair, "Please, call me Rhet."_

_She raised her sword and drew the blade swiftly across her palm. Rhet watched a few drops of blood hit the ground as she knelt beside him and pulled the sleeve off his right arm. She placed her bloodied palm on the inside of his forearm and it began to glow white-hot. Rhet grimaced and gritted his teeth as his arm exploded with searing heat. Just as he felt he might actually cry out in pain, the burning abruptly stopped and Zakurah withdrew her hand. She stood and turned to Wyand while Rhet looked at his arm through his hair. On his skin was the burnt symbol of the church of Zakarum._

"_The Council will find that the necromancer named Rhet is now bound to me by divine contract," Zakurah stated authoritatively, "Is the councillor appeased?" _

_Wyand had not moved; he met his niece's eye._

"_The High Council of Zakarum is appeased, Paladin, may the High Heavens favour your quest."_

The night passed without incident in Lut Gholein, and there was a general air of contentment around the town. Rhet spent most of the night in a rented bedroom of the inn, examining the Cube he'd found in Radament's chest. When he still hadn't discovered anything by midnight, he decided that sleep would serve him well to uncover the Cube's secrets in the morning.

Zakurah descended the staircase the following morning, already clad in her whitesteel armour, to find Rhet sitting at a nearby table poring over an old tome while the Cube sat idly on the table beside him. He noticed her and motioned to the chair opposite him. She sat down and accepted a mug of some local brew, which tasted incredibly bitter. She nodded to the Cube. "Any luck?"

Rhet ignored the temptation to dredge up the previous night's little spat, instead looking to the Cube with a sigh before shaking his head. "It's locked tighter than ser Voidbringer's chastity." He goaded with a mischievous glint in his eye. Zakurah didn't so much as bat an eyelash, "Ser Voidbringer would fuck cheese if he was sure no one was looking." Rhet's eyes actually widened and he stared at the paladin for a moment before bursting into hysterical and uproarious laughter. Even Zakurah in all her resoluteness could not suppress a chuckle at her dark companion's suddenly genuine mirth.

"My friends, you have quite a treasure there."

Rhet's laughter stopped immediately, the image of Wyand forcing himself into a wheel of cheese forgotten. He turned in his chair to see an old man whose wispy hair fell back over very aged but kind features. His large walking stick seemed to support him more than his own bent spine; the man was very old indeed. For the second time that day, Rhet's eyes widened as he recognised the man. "Deckard Cain..." he trailed off as he stared at the Horadrim sage. Zakurah recognised the name and felt her eyes widen in response. Cain merely smiled and continued. "If I'm not mistaken, what you have there is a Horadric Cube, a rare artefact of incredible power."

Zakurah's gaze shifted to the Cube, then back to the sage. "What does it do?" she asked, feeling slightly silly as she spotted the awe in Rhet's expression. The necromancer turned back to her and grinned sardonically. "The Horadric Cube is an alchemical device built by the Horadrim to create items of great strength and power." Cain nodded from behind him before speaking up. "The Cube serves many functions, wise servant of Rathma, but it is most commonly associated with alchemy. Pray tell, heroes, where did you find it?" Zakurah looked back at the Cube with a new fascination while Rhet replied, "In Radament's lair. He was keeping it in a chest." The sage nodded, "No doubt then that Radament was guarding the Cube as per Diablo's instructions. I imagine the Lord of Terror did not want anyone to find it because of the information it contains."

Rhet stared at the Horadrim before asking him what information he could be referring to.

"Isn't it obvious, my friend?"

Zakurah looked back up in time to catch Rhet shrugging in confusion.

"It contains the location of Tal Rasha's tomb, where Terror's brother Baal has been imprisoned."

Rhet turned back to the Cube. "Tal Rasha's tomb; so much knowledge is buried beneath the sands of this desert." Zakurah's expression had turned hard and serious. "Ser Cain," she began, "can you tell us how to open this Cube? You would be aiding the Zakarum greatly." Cain's eyebrows rose, he stepped closer and, without hesitation, tapped four distinct circles on the Cube's surface in a simple pattern. The top surface of the Cube seemed to turn cloudy and the sage stuck his hand through the lid with what appeared to be practised ease. Both Rhet and Zakurah gaped at the nonchalance with which he unlocked the Cube. Cain eventually stuck his entire arm into the Cube. "As you can see, the inside is deceptively larger than one might expect." He spoke with the warmth of a parent explaining something very simple to a child. Pulling his arm out, Cain revealed that he was holding a large, weathered roll of parchment. He placed it on the table in front of Rhet. "I am happy to be of assistance to Sanctuary's champions." He finished.

The necromancer seemed to recover before Zakurah could and thanked Cain for his assistance, to which the old man simply smiled and bade them good luck in their quest. Zakurah picked up the parchment as Cain turned to leave and unrolled it. The writing was arcane and arranged in a tight circle around a triangular symbol. "What does it mean?" Zakurah asked almost excitedly.

"I can't read Horadric script, Zakurah."

"None of it?"

"All I can tell is that the tomb of Tal Rasha should bear this symbol." He pointed to the triangle before continuing, "and my best guess would be that the tomb is in the Canyon of the Magi, an ancient Horadric burial site."

"Alright, how do we get there?"

"We can't"

"What do you mean we can't?"

Rhet rubbed his eyes then looked Zakurah full in the face, "I mean that the Canyon has been lost for centuries."

"The Canyon?" a voice from behind a counter asked. Rhet and Zakurah both turned to see Atma, the innkeeper, walking towards them. "Begging your pardon, heroes," she began, "but the Canyon of the magi is not lost; it's just very difficult to reach." Rhet gave the innkeeper a quizzical look. She seemed to take it as a sign to continue. "Lord Jerhyn often mentioned that he knew of a way to get into the Canyon. Perhaps he could help you?" Zakurah was on her feet in an instant. "Thank you for your help." Atma nodded and smiled while Rhet slowly rose, following Zakurah as she strode purposefully out of the inn.

"You may not pass."

The guard brandished a spear at Rhet who wrinkled his nose slightly in response. "We wish to speak with Jerhyn." The guard merely stepped back and held the spear like a wall between the entrance to the palace and its visitors.

"My friends, I apologise for my guardsman. Is there something I can help you with?"

They turned to see a short man in fine clothing approaching. "I am Jerhyn," he began, "Lord of Lut Gholein, how may I assist you?" Rhet strode up to him casually, his shoulders level with Jerhyn's eyebrows, and spoke in slow tones. "We need to get to the Canyon of the Magi. I was told you know the location." Jerhyn almost lost his composure when faced with the necromancer's full menacing height and piercing eyes, but controlled the urge to step back and attempted to reply coolly. "The Canyon can be reached from inside my palace," he stammered, "I will allow you to seek out the portal, but I must warn you that it is very dangerous to venture in there." Rhet merely cocked an ivory brow and tilted his head slightly. "I've had to call the entire City-Watch into the palace in order to drive the demons back." Jerhyn added hastily, "At the very least they've stayed inside, but my guards are fighting a losing battle to defend my city." Rhet inhaled slowly and locked eyes with the frightened lord. "Let my companion and I seek the portal in your palace, and we will clear the hellspawn from your home." His words came slowly and fell heavily on Jerhyn's ears. No longer capable of withstanding the necromancer's ominous attention, he merely nodded.

Immediately the atmosphere seemed to relax and Rhet turned from Jerhyn without another word. He strode past Zakurah, motioning for her to follow. The guard stepped aside and let them pass into the palace. Zakurah was staring at Rhet as they ventured in, wondering where that sudden burst of alarming behaviour had come from. She kept wondering as they descended into Jerhyn's harem.


	4. Chapter 4: Canyon of the Magi

**Hey guys, sorry this took so long. Shut up and read, I'll apologise more later. Chapter 3 was all about character development so you may have noticed that very little happened. BUT, anyone who's played the game will notice that our "heroes" are beneath the palace. So you bloodthirsty little bastards can get a fair share of brutality now. =D So anyway, here goes. BTW I still don't own anything related to Diablo, not even the right to tell you to "stay awhile and listen."**

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Chapter 4: Canyon of the Magi

The once beautiful walls of the harem were stained black with coagulated blood. Rhet wrinkled his nose while Zakurah drew her sword and lifted her shield. She glanced at her companion as he encircled himself with a green glow and added her own light-radius to his. A shuffling sound came from the shadows to their left and Zakurah turned toward the darkness; sword raised. "We have company." Rhet didn't even turn his head; his eyes were fixed on the darkness ahead of him. "On all sides." He replied.

The Dune Beast shot out of the shadows baring claw and fang at Zakurah. The creature crashed into her shield with a sickening thud, its skull seemed to crack and ooze black fluid into its eyes and it snarled, but it did not fall, circling Zakurah with clear enmity in its tiny eyes. Its enormous arms acted like forelegs; the creature seemed to walk on its fists. Its baboon mouth hung open; revealing a myriad of miniscule razor-like fangs. Zakurah squared her stance and balanced her sword over the top of her shield; the holy flames were already beginning to dance on the blade.

Rhet smiled as he heard the familiar clicking sound of bones clacking over the stone floor. The Horrors raised their rotten bows and took aim at them both. The necromancer moved with otherworldly speed, his fingers dancing in intricate patterns, as he called forth magic from the Void. Having no fallen bones to manipulate, he was forced to summon them; the stark spires pierced the stone floor from a place not connected to this world, skewering the archers even as the attempted to loose their arrows. One arrow did manage to escape the onslaught and whistled towards Rhet. The shot caught him in the left thigh and broke against the bonemail coating him beneath his robes. Rhet looked down at his leg with a raised brow and muttered, "Not bad aim."

Zakurah was unaware of the brief skirmish between her companion and the undead. The Dune Beast had been difficult to kill; its hard, scaly flesh and seeming indifference to pain made it both tough and relentless. Finally the beast had attacked with a wild, clawed swing at her head. Her dodge and subsequent pirouette had given her flaming sword enough momentum to cleave the creature's upper-body clean off its legs. It fell in a mess of black sludge and died with an anticlimactic hiss. Straightening up, Zakurah turned to see Rhet eyeing her with amusement. She glared at him angrily for once again failing to aid her, but said nothing. Instead she set off at a jog in search of the portal.

The total darkness licked the edges of her light-radius and she was vaguely aware of Rhet following close behind her. His eyesight was much better than hers and she realised that he should have been leading. A tree swung down at her and if not for Rhet grabbing her hair and yanking her back, she might have been crushed. She cursed angrily but Rhet was facing the fallen tree, which was now being lifted up again. Zakurah followed its movement and realised that it was not a tree, but a club; wielded by an enormous man-shaped beast at least ten feet tall. Its skin was yellow and sickly-looking. It wore only a loincloth and chains that jangled angrily as the creature lifted its club. Each of its muscles were easily the size of Zakurah's entire upper-body, except for its head which was comparatively small. "Blunderbore," she heard Rhet saying under his breath. The creature bellowed a sound comparable to a bear and a lion roaring in unison and made to bring its club down a second time. Rhet dived forward, rolling in between the Blunderbore's legs. The beast stopped mid-swing and pivoted with uncharacteristic speed. Rhet's fingers were already performing their summoner's dance and a crushing bone wall sprang up from the stone floor behind the Blunderbore. The wall rushed forward as the monstrosity attempted to swing the club in a sideways sweep. It struck the beast's legs and it toppled over backwards with the club's momentum carrying it even further. It made a sound like a confused cow before landing on its head with a crunching noise. The creature's brains and blood oozed from its crushed skull and Zakurah stepped forward to examine the corpse. Rhet negated his bone wall, which crumbled before him as he walked to join her. She eyed the body in disgust, "What is this demon? I've never seen anything like it." Rhet cast a searching glance over the corpse before his eyes settled on its club.

"It's a Blunderbore," he replied, "a demon with alchemically enhanced strength and deteriorated brain function." He looked up at Zakurah. "They live on base instinct and tend to strap victims to their weapons to display dominance." The paladin turned to examine the club and sure enough, a dead city guard was tied to the wood with the same chains that held the Blunderbore's loincloth. She shivered slightly. "We should keep moving." Rhet nodded and pointed toward a dimly illuminated staircase. "That presumably leads to the cellar, judging by the creatures we've encountered; the portal to the Canyon should be down there."

The cellar stank of blood and refuse. Zakurah almost gagged as they ventured deeper. The floor was peppered with the corpses of guardsmen, and occasionally they were crucified in the same style as Evelyn – the girl Radament slaughtered in Lut Gholein. Rhet seemed not to notice the gore surrounding him and strode forward confidently. He stopped when they reached a sealed door; he motioned for Zakurah to come closer and whispered, "There's a small army behind this door. Can you sense them?" Zakurah focused on the energies behind the door, and found that there were in fact at least twenty demonic presences waiting there. "They haven't noticed us yet," Rhet said as he noticed her eyes widening, "our only chance is to ambush them. They're obviously guarding the portal." She nodded slowly and her blade began to glow anew. Rhet smiled and stepped forward – his fingers forming an intricate pattern. He spoke quietly over his shoulder, "This is going to be quite draining, so I'm going to rely on your shield while I recover my energy." He didn't give Zakurah timed to think about his indirect plea for assistance and formed the final symbol.

The door exploded forward – carried by innumerable bone-spears. It blasted into the room instantly impaling a Dune Beast that had been lying on the floor like a sinister sleeping dog. The demons were startled by the explosion and jumped in shocked confusion. The necromancer swept into the room like a shade. Wasting no time, he pointed two fingers at the dead creature and tilted them toward the ceiling. The corpse exploded into searing flames and burnt blood; sending two of the Blunderbores standing nearby flying into the walls on either side of the room. One struck the wall so hard that its spine shattered, while the other was flung into a small group of Horror archers that had single-mindedly begun to take aim at Rhet. The massive beast crushed three of them and knocked the fourth unto its back, cracking its black pelvic bone. Two more Dune Beasts recovered and charged just as Zakurah hurtled into the room. Stepping in front of Rhet she skewered one using its running momentum to drive her sword through its skull. The other met her shield with a metallic thud. Rhet acted quickly and summoned a cage of spiked bones around the dazed beast. Closing one fist he watched as the bone-prison began to close on the creature, crushing its limbs and torso. The monstrosity howled one final time before the shrinking cage crushed its face in a spray of the familiar black blood.

Meanwhile, Zakurah had surveyed the room. There were at least four more Dune Beasts and three Blunderbores. Behind them stood a group of tall spindly-limbed demons, each with four arms and brandishing a scimitar in each hand. The Invaders did not move to join the fray, preferring to watch while guarding an arch behind them which emanated a strange, red light. Four more Horror archers raised their bows and stared sightlessly at the paladin. "More than we thought." She remarked as the Horrors loosed their first volley. She raised her shield and four distinct thuds sounded across its surface. Rhet stepped around her as the Blunderbores and Dune Beasts charged, his hands already completing the symbols for a new bone-wall. The barrier erupted from the floor and stood taller than the Blunderbores. The demons crashed mindlessly into the wall and started bashing and clawing wildly at the bones. "Thank you," Rhet shot over his shoulder as Zakurah lowered her shield, "I suggest you stand back for this." He placed a hand on the wall which was vibrating under the weight of the Blunderbores' clubs. Zakurah backpedalled a few paces while Rhet muttered several arcane syllables. The bones of the wall began to glow a septic shade of green. Zakurah watched as the barrier began to crumble – each bone that broke released a noxious emerald gas into the air. The demons began to cough and splutter as the poison entered their lungs. The barrier fell in a lifeless pile and Rhet stepped forward even as one of the Blunderbores raised its club to crush his skull.

Zakurah darted forward to block the blow but a sickly Dune Beast blocked her path and slashed weakly at her. She parried the frail attack easily, knocking it aside with her sword, and plunged her sword into its chest. The once hard flesh parted like warm butter and the creature slumped pitifully, not even moaning before the life left its eyes. The Blunderbore's club came down on Rhet with the same weakness – propelled more by gravity than strength. Rhet's eyes glowed with necromantic energy as he calmly stepped to one side. The club struck the floor on his left and he mercilessly plunged his gauntlet into the creature's belly. The Blunderbore's beady eyes widened in shock and a sadistic smile played across the necromancer's lips. The beast screamed as a bright green light emanated from the hole in its gut. The Blunderbore exploded in a messy rain of putrid flesh and watery blood, knocking the other two off their feet. One landed on a Dune Beast, crushing it beneath its weight, but not before the creature's scaly skull pierced through the softened flesh of the poisoned Blunderbore. The second struggled to get up as the poison intensified in its bloodstream, causing the flesh to fall from its bones even as it moved to get up. Zakurah watched in horror as the shambling mess missing most of its skin gave a final lurch, before slumping forward into a gooey puddle. She turned to Rhet with an expression somewhere between fear and disgust, but his attention was on the Horrors; knocking arrows into their decaying wooden bows. His fingers touched the ground and a ripple ran along the floor toward the archers. The arrows left their bows just as a flower of razor-sharp bone spikes blossomed in the skeletons' midst; impaling and shattering each of them. Rhet dived to the right and avoided two of the arrows, but one caught him in the right shoulder. He grunted as he stood, but made no move to remove the arrow lodged in his arm.

Zakurah ran to his side and examined the wound. The arrowhead had pierced his shoulder barely an inch after his bonemail ended. She reached to pull it out. "Don't!" he cried, "I don't want to lose any blood." Zakurah looked stunned. "I can heal the wound." She said. "Later," came the reply, and he inclined his head towards the portal, "we're not out of danger yet."

Zakurah turned to see the Invader's advancing. There were easily ten of them, and they stood as tall – if not taller – than the Blunderbores. At the front of the group was obviously the leader. His skin was a darker shade of red than the others', and his left shoulder was adorned with a salvaged piece of platemail. The others wore only roughshod leather garments that seemed to be torn in places to fit the long, spindly bodies. The leader surprised both Rhet and Zakurah; he spoke. "You fight well warriors, but why have you come to this place." His voice was deep and clear. Rhet's breathing was shallow and came out in painful rasps, Zakurah looked the demon in the eye and replied, "We seek to enter the Canyon of the Magi." The Invader smiled, revealing curved teeth, "I cannot allow you to enter the Canyon. My lord Diablo has charged me to deter any who seek to enter." He drew himself up to his full height – he stood easily twelve feet above the ground. "I will allow you and your injured companion the chance to return to the city. What say you?" Zakurah raised her chin in defiance. "You will let us pass, Demon, or you will be cleansed by the fires of the High Heavens." The demon tilted his head to one side, seeming to appraise her for a moment. He then threw back his head and laughed. "Then you will perish at my feet, Paladin."

The invaders surged forward as Zakurah raised her shield. Three scimitars met her barrier at once but she did not give one inch. Her sword blazed with righteous fire and she thrust the shield forward, knocking the attackers off balance. A bright light began to build around Zakurah and her very armour seemed to glow with holy flame. The Invaders rushed in again, five blades swinging down toward her face. The scimitars met her sword with a vicious impact; the strength of five demons could not match the force of the paladin's zeal. Blades made to stab at her stomach but Zakurah swatted them away as if they were flies, slowly advancing; pushing the Invader's back toward the portal. Rhet stared at his companion in open confusion, the pain in his shoulder almost forgotten. "You continue to surprise me, noble Paladin." His voice was barely audible over the scream of steel on steel.

Zakurah struck and parried with godlike speed. Three Invaders had already fallen – burning gashes searing their bleeding chests – and still she pushed the demons back. Her sword and armour both were ablaze; shedding a dazzling light on the entire room. The Invaders' extra arms were keeping them alive by allowing them to parry the raging paladin. One demon made a wild lunge with its left arm and swung for Zakurah's leg with the two arms on its right. She sidestepped and severed its left arm while blocking the right with her shield. One scimitar made it past her guard and struck her knee, causing her to falter slightly. A second Invader came from the left and brought a scimitar down, aiming for her head. Zakurah realised too late that the blow to her knee had left her exposed. She could not bring her shield up in time and braced for the impact. A green flash exploded against the Invader's head, knocking it into the one that had lost its arm to Zakurah's sword. There were four still standing, including the leader who had been watching the battle with great interest. His eyes widened when he noticed Rhet almost decapitate one of his minions before rushing into the fray himself.

Rhet ignored the pain in his shoulder and formed an intricate series of symbols before pointing at one of the dead Blunderbores. From the carcass erupted a series of rib-bones, already liquefying and shifting into long, thin spears. He jerked his arm towards the Invaders and the spears took flight, impaling three demons and bursting out behind them to crash into the far wall of the room. He panted heavily as Zakurah shoved her blade through the throat of the Invader with the severed arm, pinned beneath its dead comrade. He died with a gurgling rasp for breath. Now only the leader remained; he squared his stance as Zakurah slowly advanced on him, the fury of the High Heavens burning in her eyes. "You have earned the right to face Fire Eye, human." The demon conceded. Zakurah ignored him, the holy fire that enveloped her danced in her wake. Fire Eye was unnerved, he raised his scimitars all at once and brought them down in a cross-formation. Zakurah raised her shield to meet them; the blades crashed into the barrier with bone-shattering force, but she did not even flinch. Fire Eye's swords caught fire on contact with the shield and began to melt in his hands. The demon shrieked as the molten metal coursed over his hands and dropped his weapons. Zakurah continued walking toward him and he fell back onto his rear; clearly outmatched.

"Please," he begged, "please don't." Zakurah did not blink and swung her sword with inhuman speed even as Fire Eye brought up his spindly arms to shield himself. The burning blade sliced through his wrist and skull like a knife through cream, and the demon fell to the ground; blood spurting from what remained of his face. Zakurah knelt on the spot and began to pray. The damage and dirt on her sword and armour appeared to fade as in the battle with Radament. When she had finished she rose and turned to her companion.

Rhet was trying to steady his breathing but the pain in his shoulder was beginning to radiate to his head. He watched Zakurah approach him and kneel next to him. She regarded his arm dispassionately and reached to pull out the arrow. This time he didn't protest. The pain was renewed as she ripped the arrow from his shoulder and he gasped slightly, unwilling to cry out. The paladin placed her palms together and began to chant under her breath. A language Rhet didn't understand but recognised as the language of Zakarum. He looked at the hole in his arm and watched with fascination and relief as the skin knitted itself back together. When it was completely closed, Zakurah stopped chanting and looked up at him. She still had not said a word and Rhet thought he saw her eyelids flutter slightly. His suspicions solidified as she slumped forward, falling into his arms; fast asleep.

—**oo00oo—**

Akrimox surveyed his new project with fascination. He grinned and tilted his head sideways, his project followed suit – causing him to grin even wider. Everything was turning out almost perfectly, he looked to one of his servants and the Oblivion Knight shuffled forward to meet its master.

"How long until we can have more?"

"Perhaps a week, my lord."

The demon sighed, but with a note of contentment. His plans were finally coming to some form of fruition. He turned away from his project and watched the souls of the damned float by in the flaming river of the Burning Hells. Waiting for word from his own master and hoping his efforts would be pleasing.

—**oo00oo—**

Zakurah washed up on the shores of consciousness and blinked dazedly into the sunlight. She didn't understand why there was sunlight in the cellar. Perhaps the Invaders had actually killed her? her memory of the battle was hazy. Perhaps she was among the inhabitants of the High Heavens. Her heart leapt briefly, before she realised the implication; she must have failed in her quest.

"Zakurah? You're awake?"

The familiar voice seemed to come from nearby. She thought it sounded like Rhet, but why would he be in the High Heavens? Surely necromancers go elsewhere? Some force tilted her head up and occluded the sun, her eyes fluttered hesitantly open to reveal the necromancer looking down at her. His hair was had fallen from its usually obedient perch and brushed at her face. She sneezed as a strand made its way into her nose. Rhet blinked uncomprehendingly at the innocence of the moment.

"Get your hair out of my face!"

The necromancer slid back and smoothed his hair over his scalp again, regaining his usual, composed demeanour. "Thank Trag'Oul, I thought you might actually be dead."

Zakurah sat up and eyed him indignantly. "If I were dead, you'd be a cinder." She was uncomfortably reminded that he would not be with her if not for the brand on his arm. Dispelling the thought and casting a glance around her, she realised that Rhet must have carried her through the portal. The Canyon of the Magi stretched on around them like an arid sea.

"Where's the portal?" she said suddenly as she noted nothing but sand in the vicinity.

"It closed behind us." Came the reply, "We're trapped here." With that, Rhet rose and looked around him, trying to discern a marker that might indicate either the location of Tal Rasha's tomb or, at the very least, a source of replenishment. Zakurah sat on the ground for a moment, considering their situation before rising to her feet and immediately sensing something wrong.

"Rhet,"

"Mm?"

"Where's my shield?"

The necromancer then did something astonishing. He scratched his head like a toddler and shifted his weight from foot to foot before slowly replying, "Uhm, I don't know." Zakurah's eyes burned through him as he continued. "I had it in my hand when I stepped through the portal, but I must have dropped it."

The paladin bore down on him and grabbed a handful of his robe, "YOU DROPPED IT?!"

"Not on purpose," he cut back, losing his childlike awkwardness in a flash. "I was preoccupied with getting all twelve tons of your armour through the portal! I thought I could turn back and grab it but the second we made it through the window, it closed. I'm sorry!" He grabbed her wrist and shoved her backwards, sending her backpedalling to stay on her feet. She stared at the necromancer with a combination of fury and exasperation. She was on the verge of delivering her whitesteel gauntlets squarely into his mouth, but some force allowed her to control herself and she realised that Rhet could not possibly know the value that her shield held for her. As quickly as her rage had surfaced, she calmed down and looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry, Rhet. I lost my temper, but now isn't the time to be fighting each other." She pointed in the direction of a distant silhouette on the otherwise flat horizon. "We should get moving."

Rhet, who had become angry and defensive, found himself deflating slightly at the suddenly passive approach of his partner. For all the otherworldly rage he witnessed in the palace cellars, this seemed like a different person. Without another word, Zakurah turned on her heel and he silently followed suit, inwardly cursing the desert heat for the renewed impracticality of his black robes.

An hour of walking and the silhouette had tauntingly grown only slightly larger. Zakurah's steady pace remained unhindered by her heavy armour or the sun's brutal onslaught, but Rhet was becoming both agitated and agonisingly slow-roasted. His pale skin was unaccustomed to such intolerable heat and he found his pace slowing as he became slightly light-headed. Zakurah marched on, oblivious to her companion's discomfort. Sighing, Rhet stopped and sank to his haunches, sweat glistening on his forehead. He reached up to wipe it away with the sleeve of his robe. The ambush struck at the same moment.

Saber Cats where desert hunters that moved in packs of at least six. They wore leather armour salvaged from their enemies' corpses and were skilled in the mixing of noxious poison bombs. Alongside these bombers, the ambush group sported whips and throwing spears. They had stalked the paladin and necromancer for at least twenty minutes and had seized the opportunity when Rhet, like many humans, became exhausted by the heat of their territory.

A spear whistled almost silently through the air, flying towards Rhet's exposed head. Exhausted as he was, the necromancer spun on the spot and darted to one side even as the spear made contact with his ear. He had felt the strange presence the moment he'd sat down and now, blood flowing freely down his shoulder, he squared off against at least twelve of the catlike demons. Zakurah was nowhere in sight and Rhet couldn't spare the time to look behind him. The energy crackled in his metallic palms as one of the cats threw a potion bottle aimed at the ground in front of him. He dived and rolled forward in time to catch the fragile bottle. Poised to throw it back, he cocked his arm and took aim for the centre of the group, but the bottle had been ruptured by his gauntlet and the green gas had begun to escape. Two of the tawny demons leapt forward as the gas entered Rhet's lungs. His muscle control started to fail and he felt his legs turn weak as the Saber Cats bore down on him with claw and whip. He braced himself for the pain and awaited the rending of his flesh; but it never came.

Hazarding a look, Rhet was greeted with the glint of white. Zakurah held her sword in both hands, this time there were no flames; instead the blade glowed searing white. Rhet could only stare while she seemed not to notice his presence, the same light in her sword glowed in her eyes so brightly that she seemed to have no irises. The Saber Cats had stopped their onslaught to stare at Zakurah, not knowing what to make of her, they seemed to decide she was worth the effort and renewed the assault; one leaping for her neck with its claws while the other aimed a whip-strike at her left leg.

Rhet would recount later that he had heard her muttering something arcane, but could not discern exactly what. Her sword barely seemed to move and yet an arc of light so bright it seemed corporeal sliced through the pair of attackers, their flesh yielded with such ease that it took a moment for them to fall apart. From midsection to collar bone one tumbled to pieces, the other stared dumbly at the burnt stump that had, just a second before, held its entire left arm. It looked up mutely with wide, feline eyes at the shining paladin. Zakurah flicked her wrist and a second, smaller blade of light severed the cat's head, its expression changing only when its face struck the ground.

The other Saber Cats shifted uncomfortably, this foe had proven unexpectedly powerful. One stepped forward, its gold-flecked eyes boring into Zakurah, who stared unblinkingly back. The cat seemed unnerved by the paladin's lack of pupil or iris, but it stood tall and planted the butt of its spear in the sand before speaking.

"You are strong." It growled.

Zakurah did not answer. Instead she began walking slowly toward the group of demons, holding her sword loosely in her luminous gauntlets. The leader took a single step back and Rhet saw the followers begin to tremble. The poison in his blood had been dispelled by his necromantic energy and he breathed it out in a green gush before standing up rather gracelessly. Zakurah raised her sword a second time as the leader, growling, jumped forward in a desperate gambit for survival rather than simple victory. The other cats surged forward, hoping to skewer and claw the paladin to death before another blade of light tore them apart as if their bodies were no more than liquid. Rhet cocked his head to one side, a sly smile spreading across his chapped lips. "It seems I'm in no danger of incineration after all."

Zakurah met all ten cats at once. If the moment could be observed outside of time, one would see the spears turn to ash while the poisons boiled in their bottles. It was over too soon for Rhet to notice how, but in an instant, each cat had either been split asunder or reduced to ash by the blinding fury that followed the leader's attack.

When the light faded, Rhet stood staring at his companion. Her sword had been sheathed and the burning whiteness in her eyes had dissipated as she turned to face him.

"What…" he found he did not know how to begin his question.

"Paladins do not fight alone, Rhet. The power of the High Heavens is always with us." Zakurah intoned as if from years of repetition.

Finding his voice at last, Rhet replied. "Maybe so, but I've fought paladins before and none of them could do what you just did." He straightened up and looked her in the eye. "What _did _you just do?"

She regarded him coolly, then walked past him, setting a quick pace toward the silhouette still on the horizon before speaking.

"We call it The Wrath of the Sun."

Rhet followed close behind this time, his fatigue forgotten. "So that was sunlight you were cutting them with?" He seemed incredulous.

"Basically."

"But surely there's more to it than that? Why doesn't such power drain you? And why haven't you used it before?"

Zakurah merely pointed upward and Rhet raised his gaze to the sun, burning brightly in the afternoon sky. It dawned on him then.

"It's not your magic is it? You use the sun itself. And you couldn't use it before because we were always indoors."

"Correct. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

Rhet stared at her as she marched, her expression cold. "Did I strike a nerve?" he offered with a slight chuckle. She stopped abruptly, almost making him walk past her as she turned to face him.

"Rhet, no one outside the Zakarum is meant to see this power and live to tell about it. It is sacred magic and one of our most well-guarded secrets and you just forced me to use it because you went and got yourself ambushed." She stared at him with hard eyes and the necromancer felt a twinge of panic along with another unidentifiable emotion.

"I'm sorry, Zakurah. I give you my word that I will never speak of it."

She scowled. "How can I trust that?"

Rhet closed his eyes briefly and his fingers danced silently between them. When he stopped chanting he held out his hand and motioned for her to take it. She did so hesitantly. Their gauntlets met and she could instantly feel the magic twining its way around both their hands. Rhet intoned quietly and with a deep reverent voice, "_I, Rhet, son of the first immortal, swear to you, Zakurah, on the blood of my father the king, and the life that rests in me, that you will have my fealty for as long as my body remains in this plane. I swear this with Trag'Oul as my witness. Let it be so._"He released her hand so suddenly that she clasped the atmosphere for a few seconds before realising what had happened.

"Rhet…" she began.

The necromancer regarded her with the slightest of smiles. "That's how you can trust that." He almost laughed at her stunned expression. She stared openly at him, to which he quirked an ivory brow.

"What was that, Rhet?"

"A vow of fealty." He replied casually, "The strongest bond a necromancer can make. I am now sworn to aid you by the law of my kin and the magic in my blood." With that he began walking again, feeling slightly awkward for so intimate a ritual with someone he had known less than a month. Zakurah caught up with him a moment later. "Did you say you're the son of the king? What king? Sanctuary hasn't had a king since Leoric and he had no children."

"Leoric was not my father, no," said Rhet, "my father is the lord and sovereign of the necromancers. You know his name well I think." He gave her a mischievous look and she stifled a gasp.

"Impossible." She said.

"Clearly not."

Zakurah gawped at him for a moment. "Your father is Rathma?"

Rhet merely nodded, not turning to look her in the eye as they walked.

"But he lived almost three thousand years ago!"

Another nod.

"He really is immortal?"

A third nod.

"High Heavens keep us. So you're the prince of necromancers."

This time he turned his head and smiled wryly. "I suppose I am."

The next few hours passed in relative silence. Rhet was thankful to see he sun perching itself on a mountain before slipping behind it in an orange bloom. Zakurah had been processing the information of Rhet's royalty in contemplative stillness, and the desert seemed wary of the travellers after the encounter with the Saber Cats. The silhouette had turned out to be the remains of a large statue; Rhet had noted that it was most likely a Horadrim mage of old. They had kept walking, hoping to find something in the mountainside that could indicate the tomb was nearby. Approaching the rock face, they noticed a pair of huge pillars hewn into the rock. Upon one there was a tiny symbol inscribed at eye-level. A tiny circle of script with a triangle inside it, the same symbol they had seen on the parchment from the Cube. Rhet was habitually adjusting his gauntlets and the killing smirk was making its way onto his face. His eyes seemed to glow with violent emerald while Zakurah drew her sword. They exchanged glances and each smiled. The necromantic bond had restored some of Zakurah's lost faith in her companion, while Rhet had newfound respect and admiration for the paladin and her abilities. Together, they crossed the threshold into Tal Rasha's tomb.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**Hey everyone, sorry this chapter took 97859675856 years to show up. A HUGE thank you to everyone who supported me in the dry spell (God knows I've been incredibly busy) and a big ups toNightbreed6 for the loyalty to the story. And a very warm welcome to the newcomers. This chapter was pretty long because I realised you can't have pure action or pure interpersonal stuff on a chapter by chapter basis. I think they might all start to get a little longer but who knows. Anyway, fun times in the tomb. =D**

**Some of you may have noticed that I'm getting rid of a lot of the in-game stuff and I've completely reworked what paladins and necromancers are, but I plan to stay true to the lore. I just wanted to make things more interesting and less like a descriptive walkthrough of a co-op game. Here's hoping my reimagined characters live up to everyone's expectations.**

**Please feel free to comment and review. It means a great deal to get some nice solid critique, especially given how rusty I've gotten. Looking forward to hearing from everyone.**


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